


A Dreamer & a Schemer

by aderey



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Manipulation, Seduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7420477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderey/pseuds/aderey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you play a game no one has ever played, let alone won? </p><p>Sansa Stark is playing against Petyr Baelish and is certain she will win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be a long, slow burn, multi chapter fic, but this is also kind of my first attempt at writing something longer than one shot. Also, English is my second language and I don't have a beta (yet?) so please forgive me if I fuck things up too much. And I was always curious, would it be better if I just write the whole thing and then post it or do it chapter by chapter? What do you guys think?
> 
> I didn't choose any archive warnings because doing so might or might not give away parts of the plot, so the only thing I want to make clear is that it is going to be a story with explicit consensual sex scenes, but no underage sex, here at the beginning of the story Sansa is nineteen. We start right after episode 6x10.
> 
> Thank you for giving me a chance! Hopefully you'll enjoy the first chapter.

"Well that's unexpected" she thought to herself, standing outside his, for the time being, chambers at Winterfell. Littlefinger in her home. Who would have thought.

Jon is so innocent - she thought, "do you trust him?" No one in their right mind would even think about asking such a question about Littlefinger, but Jon always tended to see the best in people, just like their father. She feared he might meet the same fate if he didn't grow up quickly in terms of trust and goodness. He learned a few lessons, she found out, betrayal just like in her life, different people, different kinds. No one can be trusted, no one can save anyone, this she was sure of now. Would she trust any of her other siblings if they suddenly showed up? Arya? Bran? Who knows where they have been, what they have done to survive, would they have doubts about her and Jon, too?

She couldn't trust him, not fully, her half brother, perhaps her last living relative, she should be able to speak freely with him. But it's not her own suspicious mind that is at work here. She is now a new person. She was always a fast learner and life gave her plenty of lessons. And manipulative, cunning, ruthless teachers. Her knowledge wouldn't betray her, she knew now. That was the key. And also, carrying a small, easily conceivable dagger, just in case it gets physical. She just killed a man, but not with her bare hands. It felt good, almost too good. She enjoyed it perhaps too much, and now the thought of someone coming after her almost thrilled her, what an opportunity to slash a throat or two. She couldn't recognise these thoughts, foreign, strange, dangerous. What has she become? She survived. That's all that mattered.

There was something else also. Something new. Ambition? Desire? She felt like a wolf ready to attack. She needed her own life. Sitting there beside Jon while he was being proclaimed King in the North by all their bannermen, the Stark bannermen, she felt cheated almost. She made a mistake glancing into the farthest corner of the hall, and meeting his gaze. He wasn't cheering like the rest of them. He remained seated even, and silent, looking straight at her. She knew what that meant. He wasn't going to be loyal to a Snow, only to a Stark, forgotten by everyone else in the room. "He might be King in the North, but what do _you_ want?" She couldn't take her eyes off him, why?

So in the night, she decided to pay Lord Baelish a visit, and maybe get some answers out of him. She had all her weapons ready, just in case, a dagger, so small and so sharp it was mesmerising when she accidentally cut her finger on it, and of course, now she knew everything there was to know about Littlefinger, so she was sure, her tears and what's between her legs is enough to make him talk. Always have a few strategies, watch what he's doing and he's yours. She prepared herself as if for a battle. Waiting till well past midnight, she got dressed and didn't bother with a candle to light the way. This was Winterfell, this was her home, she knew every step and ever corner and she could make sure no one would notice her wandering at night. And no one would follow her.

Coming closer to his chambers she noticed just the faintest light coming from under the door, so was he asleep with the candle still burning? Or worse, still awake? It startled her for a moment and for some reason she just pressed her palms against the door and found it to be unlocked. Why? She entered, expecting him fully aware who's come to visit him at such an hour.

 

He immediately stopped his writing, stood up and she noticed that something bothered her, but she couldn't figure out what. She closed the door behind her and locked it all the way. He stood before her, fully dresses, like she was, neither of them looking like people who were planning on sleeping tonight.

She opened her mouth but no words came to mind. Something was different about him. About him towards her. Where was that grin of his she saw earlier? He looked calm and almost tired.

"Why didn't you lock the door?"  
"Because I knew you'd come, Sansa. That's why I'm not in bed either"  
"You were waiting for me"  
"I was"

It was obvious he'd know. How could she be so stupid, again? Of course she'd be here tonight and of course he'd be ready.

She checked if her dagger was still in place and went to sit on his unmade bed to make the situation a bit less embarrassing. He joined her and she felt like a bride on her first wedding night, scared and unsure of what's to come. But she's been through that already, she never allows that night in her memory now. That Sansa is long gone.

Now she had her own agenda. And she will play him like he and the rest of them played her. He thinks she's not strong enough, she gave him lots of contradictions to think about. Now it's time.

She looked at him, trying to guess his thoughts.

"Even though I was waiting, it's you who came here, isn't it, my love? Might be the right time to tell me why?"  
That was it. If nothing else, she was sure of two things. Lord Baelish lusted after power and after Sansa Stark. He called his feelings another word but that wasn't it. If you know what a man wants you know who he is and how to play him. But she had to be careful. What if he took advantage of her? Didn't seem likely, seeing as he had many opportunities before and never once took it too far. No, he wants her to love him. He wants her to want him and be in his pretty picture.

Littlefinger was a dangerous man, and now he was too close to her. He was in her home, practically in her bed. She feared for Jon and what might happen to him. She learned that the more power a person has, the more damage they can do to the ones you love and to you. They were on different sides and she needed to get rid of him one way or another before he makes his next move which she was sure won't be beneficial for anyone except himself. She refused his last attempt at kissing her and she would do it again but knew that she couldn't afford it. Power over man is nothing if he thinks it's him who sets the game. She was no maiden now, she would figure things out until he believes it's true and she's his. She'll never marry him, Winterfell is hers and she's a Stark. She always will be.

He gently took her left hand in his, and she let him hold it. As if lost in thoughts, she looked straight ahead and said softly "Lord Baelish, today in the Godswood..."  
"Please don't, I understand that my behaviour was simply inappropriate at the time and that it's only reasonable you did what you felt was right..."  
She felt her chest rising and falling, tears ready to fall down. She freed herself from his grip and turned away. It was simply too early for anything else, so to avoid any suspicions she had to be secretive and move slowly through this. She turned to face him again and found him confused, which is what she was going for.

"How long do you plan to stay?"  
"Long enough"  
What kind of answer is that? Long enough for what? Truly they were both enjoying this little game of theirs.  
"Good. Then keep your door unlocked, Lord Baelish" she said as she moved closer to his face as if ready for a kiss, but just as she saw his eyelids closing she stood up and went straight to the door, unlocked it and disappeared in the night of the corridor.


	2. Chapter 2

The next night she found the door locked.

She had to drag her nails on the wood to let him know, otherwise she'd wake someone by knocking. What was he doing? She specifically asked him just the night before, he wouldn't forget.

He opened the door again fully clothed, and it felt like he was annoyed with her.

"I asked you not to..."  
The door slammed shut behind her as he pinned her against it and put the lock in place.

"Don't play with me, Sansa, I know when you lie, I will always know"  
"I didn't say much yesterday to you to be called a liar!"  
"You don't need to say anything" he wasn't looking at her but somehow she felt how tense both of them were. Anxious, even. 

Could she push him a little harder?

"Fine. I'm carrying a dagger with me everywhere, are you aware of that?"  
She let out a little moan as his fingers dragged slowly across her thigh to find the damned thing and toss it to the floor. She sighed deeply.  
"Do you take me for a fool, sweet Sansa?"

She was still against the door, his body pressing into hers.

"Why make me defenceless, Petyr?" She asked innocently.

"You don't need to defend yourself against me, ever"

She wanted to believe it so badly, she wanted him to be true, she wanted this to be true. She's in his arms and nothing matters because he keeps it all under control. He keeps the whole kingdom under control, already or soon enough. He's the one to make things happen. Terrible things mostly, for most, for others - no, not for others. For her - he would make wonderful things happen. He says so and she deep down believes him. He saved her. She saved him. Something in her wanted to stay like this, let him lead, she wouldn't care where to.

She was so lost in thought but it was clear, as soon as he was ready, so should she. And he was, even at this very moment. She thought for a second if it was warm enough in this guest room to fully undress, but perhaps if they did it by the fireplace on a couple of furs and then take some more from the bed to cover themselves, then it should be fine. She stole some moon tea earlier so that she wouldn't have to worry about this, too. She hoped she would be able to relax, for the first time. This shouldn't feel forced for him. She should make herself want him somehow. And it's probably a good idea to start with a kiss, that'll startle him. 

So as he was searching her face once more leaning closer, trying not to frighten her, she met him halfway. She made the choice. For the first time she accepted him and that was enough. He took her in his arms and for the first time she felt it fully, the kiss. The one he tried to give her many times. Deep, open, moist. Delicious even. It was pure skill - she told herself. She was responding to it just because of how good of a kisser Petyr Baelish was. It scared her. A moan escaped from her lips and it scared her so much that she opened her eyes and broke the contact between them, panting.

"Please let me go right now and I give you my word we'll do this again"  
He unlocked the door behind her and opened it slowly, her hand in his. He let go of her and watched as she hurried up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters might be longer but later on, for now I'm comfortable writing it shortly, still not sure I can write in English, that kind of thing, you know? But yeah, there will be smut and good content, I will do my best, I promised myself to at least give this a try and finish at least one story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand some smut in this chapter

The nights she had figured out in her head already. The days, however, not so much.

She wasn't part of Jon's council, but of course he would always ask her opinion. She felt incredibly bad about not being honest with him about her own plans, but they enjoyed each other's company, she could do at least this much.

She avoided Littlefinger almost entirely during the day, so much that it became obvious to Jon and she again blamed herself for this mistake. Avoiding someone is just as obvious as being with them all the time.

One day her and Jon were laughing about something as they usually would during the morning, to keep their minds away from the upcoming war and winter and the things they lost, when he suddenly asked her a question she was not prepared for.

 

"Sansa, do you like Lord Baelish?"

She hoped, she wished that nothing would give her away. The tone of her voice, or her cheeks blushing.

"I have no personal sympathy for him, if that is what you're asking, I'm indifferent, one could say?"

"Look, I'm only asking because we discussed between us that your marriage to him, political or otherwise, would be of help. I thought I saw you two together once and you seem to be at least friendly, but of course if you're against it.." how could he ask her this? How could he?

"I do not wish for any more husbands, Jon, I hope you understand why"

He gave her a quick nod and a smile. "I do, I'm sorry"

She felt a little bit of disappointment in his voice, he hoped for another answer and he didn't get it. Would it ruin his plans entirely or was this just an option? Will he try to speak with her about this again, try to persuade her? She simply didn't know. He was on his own, just like her.

Still, they were each on their own.

"I'll leave you to finish your breakfast" he said, standing up from the bench. She smiled back at him, waiting until he left. She was going her own way with this, no, marriage is not what she is after. She is after Petyr Baelish but in a whole different sense.

A woman doesn't have to marry a man to make him hers, now she knew. She felt like her innocence wasn't just taken from her by force, but _ripped_ from her, _raw_ , she felt it sharp like a sudden cut, and not just in a physical way. She felt her bruises turn to permanent marks and the cuts turn to scars, but she would wear them all like an armor. And her inner innocence, her dreamy mind, she could endure anything now. She wasn't a maid anymore, she would open her legs for Baelish like one of his whores. She would get down on her knees and let him force himself into her mouth until she choked and her saliva would mix with his seed making her want to vomit and she would close her eyes, trying to swallow and it just wouldn't go down her throat, _disgusting_ , thick substance...

" _No_ " she thought.

"I am Sansa Stark, and I will do whatever it takes".

In the middle of that day she has fallen asleep in her chambers and she dreamed about being a wolf, she was chasing her pray and she succeeded, quickly snapping the throat and now trying to get to the nicest parts of the meat with her teeth. Suddenly she was a girl again, in the middle of nowhere, her mouth full of blood and her hands and dress covered in mud. She woke up suddenly, and sat up, tasting iron. Her lips were chapped. The winter is here.

 

Sansa waited for the upcoming night impatiently, trying to keep her mind and hands occupied. She must not fail this time or it would all be for nothing. She needed to change into something more fitting, and prepare herself mentally, take a bath, and then there was her cup of moon tea which she took all at once. She also took care of her lips as best as she could. She washed her hair and spent extra time just relaxing and enjoying her favourite scents. A man's bed is sometimes a woman's battlefield, so it's all the same - the preparation, the armour, the strategy. And the weapons, of course.

She felt almost sick when it was time to go, but nothing could be done now. She simply had to go. She gave him her word. So she made it to his chambers again, in the night, she pushed the door gently and there was no resistance. She couldn't spot him right away but first she locked the door, manifesting the finality of her being there.

Petyr Baelish was standing by the window, and the heavy snow falling outside made her feel more at ease. He probably waited for her to come to where he was standing, so she did. She searched his face for any emotions but found nothing but peacefulness. Was it the scenery? He was no northerner to enjoy something like this.

He finally acknowledged her presence and she put her hands on his chest. Looking straight into his eyes she was silently asking permission to go further. She slid her arms around his neck and felt him taking her waist.

"You never asked me what I wanted" she said.

He gave her a little smile.

"And I won't. I don't want to know who you are and how to move you" She felt her heartbeats in her head, her lungs striving for air. " - I only want you"

And she kissed him for the first time, truly initiating. Hungrily, demanding, she couldn't get enough of him and she felt him losing it, too. Becoming vulnerable right in front of her. How many people have seen what she's about to see? Him, completely. She feared to show herself, too. But something else was tugging at her feet. This wasn't going how she planned it. Something was wrong. Who had the upper hand right now? It has to be her, it has to or it's over and she's lost.

He's supposed to be leading, she saw his hunger.

"You know what I want, Sansa. Move me, if you can. I would rather we join forces and take it all, together, but the choice is yours"

She felt cheated. Could he be lying this convincingly? Was he really in love with her? Too many questions, she wasn't prepared, wasn't as ready as she thought. There's no going back. She must remain strong now, take control, make him hers. But she was only his prize, his reward, so he had to take her himself, she only had to let him. Just give him that look, and stand still and wait for him. Wait. With her bare neck and wrists, hair falling gently on her back.

"You know what to do"

She wasn't sure if that was a question, but said nothing anyway. She said nothing as he proceeded to take pieces of her clothing one by one slowly until she was halfway naked. He let her take off his clothes, too, until she saw the scar. One that he was probably hiding not just because it was unpleasant to look at. Scars like that are equally damaging to the soul of the ones who carry them. An injury such as this should've killed him, but didn't, the Gods spared his life so now she could trace his past pain with the feather like touch of her fingers.

"Does it still bring you pain?" She felt like ripping out the throat of a man who did this to him with her bare teeth.

"Not in a physical way"

A soft moan left her lips as she was stroking his chest. She didn't think she would just enjoy him like this standing in the moonlight, she could actually picture herself being underneath him without her every muscle resisting. She has never before... been like this with a man. She was never kissed by any man like she was kissed by Petyr Baelish. But she was only on a mission, so none of this mattered. She was glad that maybe, only maybe, this whole scheme of hers won't be as painful as she was prepared to endure.

 

He was now afraid to do anything else, probably in case it reminded her of her late husband. She was surprised by his respect of her body, but she needed to get going. He is not hers and she is not his.

Something needed to happen.

 

"Remember my letter to you? I mentioned a reward, would you like this to be your reward?"

"No" he said as he finally claimed her lips once more.

She wanted this to end quickly.

So she went down on her knees. Something she was not sure how to do good, but at least she has done it before and it seemed to be working. Naturally, as soon as she took him into her mouth, a long moan escaped his lips. He didn't try to force himself down her throat like Ramsay did, but it was clear he enjoyed her, just licking and sucking. His cock wasn't quite easy to fit in her mouth, and she feared that when he would later enter her, it would be immensely painful. But she would still stick to the plan. She had to. She must've been doing a good job, as she felt his hands in her hair and him rocking his hips just a bit to not cause her any discomfort, but to let her know he liked the rhythm. Suddenly a thought came to mind - what if she tried a few things on him? She might get an even better response. And there was something else here as well. Something she couldn't admit even to herself. She liked it. In the nights she would drag her fingers down slowly until she found that spot and she would whisper in the dark "I fucking like it". She always cursed when she came. A small personal joy amongst all the stuff she had to deal with, like sucking his cock right now. She fucking liked it. She liked him tugging at her hair and for the first time she desided to go a bit beyond the plan, explore, since this might be useful. What if Baelish thinks she's not good enough? Then the whole plan doesn't work. So she looked up and their eyes met and she kept stroking him and sucking, she tried to take him all the way down her throat but couldn't, so she concentrated more on the head, twisting and turning her tongue around it, she knew this is what she will be thinking of while touching herself tonight after leaving. Being vulnerable felt strangely exciting, she was in control, but so was he. Just two people, pleasuring each other and themselves. They could be just two people, a man and a woman, but they were more. They were each with their own goal, they were on the opposite sides. He wanted her. She wanted him gone. And still, when he came into her mouth, she barely even noticed herself gladly swallowing his seed, she kept going until she got every drop out of him. Exhausted, he leaned on the wall behind them. She rose to her feet, wiping her mouth and waited until his breathing came back to normal. She still wasn't wearing much and the cold started to bother her. She picked up all her clothing, a decision she was sure would lead to better results. She would drive him mad with lust until he would be completely at her feet.

 

He didn't stop her from leaving and when she came back to her chambers first thing she did was sit down on the cold floor, ugly tears blurring her vision. She hated him. She hated the taste in her mouth, she couldn't escape him even if he wasn't here. She wondered what it would be like to get him to actually fuck her. Would she absolutely love it? No love and no songs and no Loras, no Highgarden or summer. Everything is gone. This is over now. Now it's only Littlefinger and she's the only one capable to move him. She will. "I will" she said to herself. He will trust her completely and she will make him believe in love again, and then she will take him down.


	4. Chapter 4

  
He wouldn't just stay in Winterfell forever, so Sansa had to act quickly. She decided to spend more time with him in the daylight. She had few people she could talk to anyway. But the conversations they had were all pretence and nothing of real value, except when they talked in Godswood. He never tried anything with her again, but she knew this was not a sign of failure. She noticed how he spoke of Jon as almost a pretender, even though Jon was crowned by the people, which was a rare enough occurrence. A bastard, but still a king.

"You shouldn't trust your half-brother so much, Sansa" Petyr would often remind her. He didn't want Sansa the way she was now - proud, but cold and emotionless, tired. He wanted her to rise, she already took back what was hers, but he wanted her to take more, and then take it all, with him guiding her.

It snowed everyday now, and he was preparing to left for the Vale before next snowstorm would hit.

 

"Come with me?" He asked her one day.  
"No" she answered simply. Her home was still here and not in the Vale. There was nothing for her there.

She was sure Jon would protect her if Littlefinger suddenly became too lustful to cooperate and decided to take what he wanted. She was sure she even could protect herself, no need for a dagger. The only real concern of hers was why it bothered her so much, she didn't trust him, and yet she willingly took risks by playing him. One wrong move from her and he would be so dissatisfied and disappointed that it might just be too late for her to scream for help or even just run. Every time he spoke, she expected the worst.

She had to give him something, bits of encouragement, even though it was extremely hard to do so. She wasn't taught how to seduce men, she was brutally fucked by one without her consent. How can this be helpful with someone who seems to be in love with her? Lies. Dirty, filthy lies. He knows, she knows, this can never happen between them. Sure, she tried to fantasise about it, what it would feel like with Baelish, would he be as gentle as his words or would he just use her like he uses his words to turn her in all the right directions, would he simply enjoy himself at her expense?

He felt different when they were alone. He wasn't at all like she imagined. He was real, she could picture him in her head, crying or laughing or moaning, all of the emotions, all of them, locked away forever, were there behind those eyes and she just had to find the right way to his heart. She already felt his body heat, now she wanted to explore deeper, what was in his mind? Was his heart burning with desire for power or for her or for vengeance? She tried not to think about all the possible outcomes. She was here to be his lover, his confidant, his protégé. She will have his love and his secrets and then she would free the world of the man with no moral sense and no honour. By doing this she would protect Jon and her other siblings, if any of them are still alive, and most importantly she would protect Winterfell and the North.

 

 

She walked barefoot that morning to meet him in his chambers, half dressed already for the ride to the Vale.

He would return. He would return, but only to her, no matter the official reason.

"Petyr..." she said softly, stopping him. He likes innocence, but he likes what's underneath it much better.

Hunger and desperation and lust.

"Sansa... I didn't expect to see you today" He covered his scar with a tunic, the traces of his pain and weakness gone. But she would bring them out again.  
She stepped closer and removed the tunic, slowly, gently, watching as it slipped down his shoulders, she helped him out of the sleeves and finally her hands were on his bare chest again, tracing what he thought to be the ugliest thing to look at for his beloved Sansa.

She looked at him, sadness and possibly disgust in her, as she asked him, her eyes not leaving his.

"How long will you be gone?"

She could tell he wasn't expecting this question, but quickly put his mask back on.

"That is not of your concern" he made a move to free himself of her, but she wouldn't let him, even without touching each other, something else was there to keep them tied to each other.

Suddenly his mouth crushed hers and she gave in completely. This was him trying to mark her as his, while he's absent.

"I will never feel what you want me to" she was out of breath. "Towards you"

"As you wish, Sansa. But know this, I never trust anyone, but I trust you. And believe me, this isn't just some game we are playing. This is so... - she felt his tongue on her skin and her body immediately responded, he licked her neck from her collarbone all the way up to her chin, agonisingly slowly, her head tilted to give him more access - so beyond any plot of mine."

She felt her head spinning. Does he already know? He knows everything. Naturally he would know of her little scheme. But she couldn't be sure. What if this was just him trying to do the same to her, as she to him?

"Must you really leave?" She whispered.

There was something... she wasn't sure. His expressions were often unreadable, even to her. Was he going to fuck her, rough and from behind? Show her who she tries to outmaneuvre, show her she's just another prize he wants for himself? Maybe give her another one of those chaste kisses, mouth closed as to not scare her away? What was it going to be, she wondered? " _Just take me_ " she thought.

"You've never seen it before you yourself took off my clothes, did you?" He was looking down at his scar, somewhat detached.  
"I..." she tried to find the right words but they never came.  
"Not many people have seen it. In fact, I think, all of them are dead now. All but you."  
She should've felt threatened but for some reason she didn't.  
"So am I to die as the rest of them?"  
"Would be no need. If you behave."  
"Behave?"

He put her hands over his scar and let them stay there, as he stepped even closer.

"I still want you by my side, Sansa. You can touch me in ways no one else is allowed. You can see what you're doing to me, can't you. I hate being vulnerable and you are making me into a man I'm not supposed to be anymore."

"So I'm ruining your plans, is that what you're saying?"

"The rest of the world will do the ruining part, for me and for you, it already did."

 

He left that morning, no promise to ever return. She cried herself to sleep that very night, she could've done it better, she didn't succeed. She clutched a dagger to her chest as she was falling asleep, dreaming of slicing his throat, his warm blood covering her hands as she clutched his limp body to her chest, rocking back and forth. She felt the sharpness of steel with her palm, and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't cut deep enough. "A lot can happen between now and never". She finally fell asleep, her skin still burning from his touch. One day she would free herself from him, one day.

 


	5. Chapter 5

He's been gone for what seemed like a decade. Her nameday passed, then another, and after the third one she gave up. Winter was here. Everything resolved around it and sometimes Sansa even wished she'd gone south, but those thoughts were stupid now. She had never seen so much snow in her entire life, it was getting colder and colder, day by day, she could no longer sleep under the covers that provided more than enough shelter four month ago. Adding furs, and making sure there was always a fireplace nearby - that was it. Getting from room to room became a difficult task, even getting out of bed. She stopped coming to Godswood. There was nothing for her there anymore, no one.

Her body changed, she could tell while taking an occasional hot bath. A woman's body now. Her hips wider, breasts fuller, she almost couldn't recognise herself. Her face, however, remained youthful, but no matter what, she saw only quiet anger in her eyes, her features sharp and all colour drained from it, white and cold was the outside world, and so was she. Only her hair still stayed the same, a painful reminder of the past.

She failed and this she still remembered. For awhile it all seemed like just something that hasn't even happened or happened to someone else, and maybe it did. Maybe he's never been in these halls at all, and it was just her imagination. She placed him here, because he was the only person who could _know_. Who could give her what she wanted and more. And now, thinking about it, she almost wished she still believed in Gods, in any God, to pray for it all. She was truly a burden, a Stark with no purpose, left alone to rot in this castle she used to call home.

One day, she finally received news from Jon, that it wasn't safe anymore to stay in Winterfell and she must head south immediately. The roads were gone and the snow too deep, but accompanied, and with enough provision and furs, in about a month she could make a journey that would usually take only a week. With enough luck, they could do it.

"Go to him" said Jon, and she obeyed, knowing exactly who he meant. "He'll keep you safe" about that part, she wasn't sure.

 

 

The journey proved itself to be just as exhausting as everyone thought. They lost five horses, and two men just halfway there. And then Sansa felt it - tight embrace of cold, filling her lungs one day, that night she got very ill. She was feverish and now all the resources were brought just to keep her alive. But she wouldn't stop shaking and her coughing was getting worse. She hoped to die in the snow. A peaceful death, she's been told. Just like falling asleep.

When they finally reached the destination, she cursed for the first time. How could he just sit there and abandon her like that? But then again, there wasn't any agreement between them, it's not like she was promised to him, it's not like they loved each other even. They were more. She wanted to see his face so desperately, but have not yet decided what she wanted to do with him. Rushing her through the gates, the remaining servants of Winterfell shouted for a maester, "Lady Stark is unwell!" She began laughing at this, but her laughter immediately turned into vicious coughing. " _Lady Stark_ " she thought, "Last time I was here, I had a different name, but I was still a wolf. Now they call me by my true name but the insides of me are frozen and unresponsive, the winter has come and brought nothing but suffering. She fainted on her way to the chambers and then found herself in a warm bed, for the first time in months, maesters with their mixtures and herbs and servants with hot broth and bread, she didn't care about any of it.

"Where is Lord Baelish?" She asked cautiously. "He's away, Lady Stark. Please no more questions, until you are well" someone said, frightened.

"When will he be back?" She asked again, but was too weak to keep these people from healing her and as she drank something sweet, all her surroundings disappeared behind her closed eyelids.

 

 

Sansa woke up three days later, feeling much better. She tried to laugh but it still came out as coughing, although not as violent as before. She craved something hot, a broth, maybe some milk or herbal tea? She called out and asked for a hot bath as well. Now she felt like herself again. The woman who went through too much to still be this young. She wondered where he was, what he was doing, whom he was with, even. No one would give her a clear answer, and she started to suspect the worst. Maybe he was already long gone, dead and buried, and just left behind these orders to keep her safe in case he won't be around anymore?

On the tenth day a raven brought news of Jon's well-being, and Sansa felt nothing. Of course she knew this would be no ordinary winter, of course she knew what was coming with it and why he ordered her to go south, but he treated her like a child. "He only wants to protect me" she reminded herself. But this was where she started, now she's in yet _another_ castle, doing nothing, being no one but the last true born Stark, which didn't matter anyway, she was just a girl of questionable reputation, with no army, no bannermen, her bastard brother was the one out there, being a true _Stark_. Now it's only a matter of time that she continues to go south, and then what? She won't run. This is Littlefinger's home now and her goal is still not achieved. Wherever he is now, he's bound to come back eventually. She waited years, she can wait some more.

 

 

Something woke her up in the night one day and she clutched the same dagger she always had on her, just in case. This might be a chance to use it, but she wasn't afraid anymore to hurt and cause pain and watch the consequences of her actions.

"One more step towards me and I swear I'll cut your throat or whatever I can get my hands on first" she said calmly.

But something didn't feel right. She could swear her lips and cheeks got bright pink and she felt absolutely defenceless.

"It _is_ you" she whispered.

As he sat on her bed she moved further away from him.

"I must say you being here is not what I would ever expect"

She carefully put her dagger back under her pillow.

"This wasn't my decision, it was a command"

"I see" He looked at her, waiting for a reaction. Good or bad, but none came.

"Strip" she suddenly said. "Get your tunic off, now!" As surprised as he was, he still obeyed her. Not being able to wait any longer she ripped the fabric off and tossed it carelessly to the fireplace. Her hand immediately found what she's been craving for. She traced his torso and looked up to meet his gaze. "Now I know it's you. Where have you been?"

He saw tears in her eyes, almost falling down her face, almost. "I only did as you told me to". Yes, she declined his offer to come here. She said she would never love him. She teased him and then gave him nothing. But... Could he _see_? She thought. Couldn't he see right through me? She stood up and now they were face to face.

"Sansa..." he whispered. She could physically feel his need, and how much he missed her and how he wanted nothing anymore, nothing but her, but she would not give in so easily. "Unlace me" she said. "Take off everything, Petyr". The sound of his name on her lips made his fingers move faster and soon she was completely bare before him. His mouth covered hers immediately but she broke the kiss.

"No, she said, this is what you get, for now, and I get what I want". He could barely contain himself, she could tell. This is his perfect chance to take what is his. Now it's time to see just how this night is going to end. She took his hand and led him to her bed. Once she was on top, she casually asked

"Do you at least know that I still hate you? You are a coward and a murderer and the only person you ever care about is yourself" She opened her mouth, inviting him to take over, but he wouldn't. "- I only encouraged you because you promised the world to me, where is it, Lord Baelish? Why am I spending my days with nothing but hatred in my heart?" His palm gently covered her mouth.

"Enough of this, Sansa" he warned. Just what she wanted.

"Enough of what? Of what? Tell me! Show me! Make me stop talking!"

"You want me to show you?" She struck him, hard. Only then did she realize what she's done.

 

There was no point in defending herself now. But he reached under her pillow and pulled out her favourite dagger.

"If you want to do it this way, Sansa, we need to be equally vulnerable, and that's something you just can't do anymore can you?"

He placed the dagger next to both of them, in plain sight.

"That's why you're so fascinated by my scar, because yours aren't visible anymore, but deep down they are burning and causing you so much pain that you simply don't know what to do with it"

"I trusted you, before you betrayed me and sold me to the man who took what I would've given you willingly"

"The terrible pain he caused you, it is not what ... he paused - it is not even close to the pleasure that can be received from such encounters.

Still, she was on top of him, and she let herself go, "for just a moment". She kissed him like she never did before, tasting him, slowly, she enjoyed being in control. She let out a gasp as he pulled her hair suddenly. It felt exactly right.

"Do more of that" she moaned.

"Of what, my sweet Sansa?"

Years spent without him flashed before her eyes, how she wanted him, how she was getting wet even thinking about him, how she cut her palm on the dagger, clasping her fists, rage and sorrow building up in her when he left; how she then feverishly tried to reach pleasure by herself, again and again, until she was convulsing in her bed with his name on her lips, drops of sweat rolling down her back, her small clothes completely soaked. She would let him cut her throat right here if only he'd let her taste him again. But the idea of him actually being inside her, that was too much. She feared her façade would immediately drop as he would enter her. He can't know how much she wants him. Her last hope remained, maybe he would hurt her, too, and that would surely put an end to her lust for him that shouldn't have been there in the first place.

Petyr let his gaze travel down and she followed. She was so wet she was literally dripping on his breeches. He couldn't help his need for her too, shifting uncomfortably under her.

"A bit tight in there I think" Sansa said as she began to finally unlace him.

"Are you sure you're ready for being in such a... compromising position, my love?" Now both naked they admired each other's bodies, until Sansa got up and left him on the bed, her arms crossed.

"Will you force me now, Lord Baelish?"

"Fuck with me all you want, Sansa, I'm used to this state, in fact, every time I'm around you I go back in my mind and remember your pretty lips around my cock, wasn't that a pretty picture?"

_What would he say to me if I confessed to him about everything? How easy it would be just to straddle him right now and then..._

Suddenly he was moving fast towards her, and then she was pinned against the wall and her protests muffled by his mouth. Then he spun her around, his body too strong to fight. She loved it. He found her dripping spot and put three fingers in, without any warning. It wasn't needed, she was so aroused she barely felt it. Ignoring her whimpering he pushed his fingers in and out a few times, then spun her around again. He licked his fingers one by one, closing his eyes in what looked like ecstasy. She was mesmerised by him.

"Finally" he said "You just need to be fucked to shut you up, don't you? You had a lot to say to me but now I can't hear any complaints or threats. Is it all it takes for you, Sansa? Is it _that_ easy to control you, just by making you wet? I'm disappointed- Petyr turned away from her and started walking towards his breeches.

She couldn't tell him, could she? But maybe that would benefit her. It was worth a try.

_Make it sound believable_.

"I am only like this with you, Petyr. I've missed you and I just wanted to punish you for leaving... she stopped to look at him, still standing bare before her - I wouldn't mind if you... would come again. My door isn't locking properly, so I guess there is no need to fix it just yet, don't you think?"

"You mean you want me to fuck you"

She simply nodded.

"First tell me what I want to hear"

"You know I can't"

 

So he put on the remaining clothes that she didn't tore up but she made no movement to cover herself, simply watching him.

"You know I hate you" she said softly.

"It won't come true just because you keep saying it"

He stole another kiss from her, brief enough to make her want more.

 

_I will use that dagger next time he's on top of me. I will slice his throat and watch him bleed on my body. What a mess this would cause._

Sansa dreamed of a night sky and of him, just him. The war was raging. She knew he loved her. She held that knowledge in her hands. Water, seeping through fingers.


	6. Chapter 6

 

  
Getting moontea wasn't an easy task, but she's resourceful. And she can lie. She can act. In fact, some roles of her she is playing so well that no one, no one can suspect the truth. And who needs ugly truth anyway?

It's funny how the best of her mentors tormented her in one way or another. She wouldn't dare to say the names, even in her sleep, but she knew.

Be observant. Know your weapons. Play along if necessary. Lying will be obvious if you don't mix it with some truth. Never want anything too badly. Mostly listen, don't talk much. Don't disclose your next move to anyone. Take moontea.

  
Perhaps just slipping some poison in his cup would be easier, but she's bloodthirsty.  
 _It's almost like I want this to end badly for either of us._

A young innocent woman, seduced by cunning Littlefinger. A good story to tell, a true one even.

In fact, she thought, _I like it so much, that he might just live a little longer than planned._ He didn't know, but she was well informed of the damage he's done in his life, to her own family, to people, to the realm. "Keep your hands clean" he would tell her "let the others do the dirty work". "Secrets are safe forever, if dead men are the ones keeping them".

Sansa started following him and watching. She knew he was aware, but kept doing it. He would be immersed in his work late at night and she would come behind him, stroking his shoulders, biting his neck, her palms sliding down his chest. She would whisper in his ear "Petyr, are you afraid?" She heard his breathing changing as his head fell back on her shoulder, eyes closed. "You can't fool a dead man, can you? Why even bother writing? Set the ravens free..." she whispered.

"What is on your mind, Sansa?" he said, his shoulders tense.  
"Nothing"  
"You're not going to be able to do this much longer, you know that"

She stepped back, something glistening behind her skirts.

At last she had his full attention.

"The war is still not over, and you still cling to that hope of surviving. I'm telling you now, Petyr, this, _me_ , is all you've got left before it _hits_ " she raised her hand with the dagger in it.

"Do you know why I carry this, have you actually stopped to think about it?" she smirked. "I've had many opportunities to use it, but I never did. What does it tell you?" She got good at playing the game, he was impressed.

"It isn't for it's intended purpose"  
"You're half right" she said, coming closer. Sansa was contradicting herself, she made him guess, made him confused.

"Make me drop it" she said. Petyr quickly gripped her wrist, but her hold was strong.

"No, don't use your hands" she laughed.  
"And if I do this, what do I get?"  
"You always want something in return, do you?" She _knew_ him, and it annoyed Petyr. 

She saw him lay on the bed, his head a little off the edge.

"Come here then" he commanded.

  
She cautiously obliged, knuckles white from the tight grip.

  
"Closer, Sansa" _what was he going to do_?

She could pretend all she wanted, but really she knew nothing of what can be done in the heat of real passion.

He placed his hands on her hips and now his face was right between her legs. He pushed her skirts up, finding no small clothes beneath.

"I see you came prepared"  
"I always do" she managed to say before she felt it.

That mouth told many lies, that man was a heartless traitor, but right now...

She shouldn't have let him. She _will_ want it again. She moaned and it felt hot and she could... how would she know a man can do this to her? That _he_ can do something like this to her and make her surrender. _I'd rather be dead than to enjoy it, this is too much_. She wanted to shout for help, cry, put him on trial, anything, _stop, please, please..._

"Petyr..." she tasted the salt of her own tears and closed her eyes, hear head spinning with desire for him. She thought she could taste ashes in her mouth, how dare she be _his,_ to touch and kiss and seduce, when many have died just by standing in his way? But if he never became Littlefinger, what if he never got that scar? Would she want him like this, now? She knew the answer.

_No_.

No, she wanted to be the one he wouldn't dare to touch, wouldn't want to hurt. He was the only one wanting her for who she truly was. She was becoming dangerous, and it excited him. He was always dangerous and it was driving her insane. What were they willing to do for control?

She still couldn't relax her fingers. She would not let him win. His tongue and his soft lips, wet mouth covering her own wetness. She sobbed and cried out for him, "I can't... any longer" he ignored her and intensified his actions.  
"No..." she exhaled deeply, as if she was holding her breath for the entire time he was underneath her, and then collapsed on the floor, still clutching her dagger. Moving fast from the bed to her, he got on top.

  
"Let go of it" he threatened.

  
"No" something wild and raw in her eyes made him uneasy.

  
She stepped away, her pose aggressive, _is wolf blood still coursing through my veins?_

"How long am I going to be at your command? - he hissed - This is what you _want_ , I _know_ you enjoy it, you think you can hide something like that?"

He grasped her arm suddenly, painfully, his other hand on the handle.

"You won't have this anymore" he whispered.

 

  
Her expression was disengaged and calm, as she put her right hand around the other end, the steel.

 

  
"Give it back to me" she said plainly.

  
He looked down between them, horror and shock on his face.

The blood was dripping on the floor as she continued to twist her hand on the steel to get a better hold.

"You're hurting yourself, Sansa"

  
"Me? She laughed - but look whose hand is still on the handle"

  
He looked at his own hand in disbelief, immediately letting go and stepping away, his back turned to her.

"Silly boy - she said - when will you stop dreaming?"

  
She didn't let go of the steel and approached him quietly, turning him towards her, as she cupped his face with her hand, blood still pouring from an open wound. "Ever fucked a girl having her moonblood?" She smiled brightly.

  
Her blood was staining his clothes and his face and she kissed him fully on the mouth, his lips unresponsive.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proper smut in this chapter. But don't be fooled, there's much more to this story.

  
Sunlight, everywhere.

That was all she could remember now that she woke up. She hasn't been so happy in years. She sobbed into the pillow, silently, her body shaking, gripping the material tightly. Alone in the whole world, forgotten, and slowly freezing. Lips purple from the cold, she repeated her words. They were her prayer now. How she wished for the old Gods to watch over her. No, she walked away from them a long time ago. She had nothing, nothing. Just her task. And once it's done...

  
Sansa woke him up that morning, knocking on his door, hoping no one else would hear. He opened it, fully awake, as if he wasn't dreaming just now, too.

"You're cold, I can see you shaking" _how could she tell him it wasn't from just the cold?_  
"I've been cold for ages" she smiled. A genuine, soft smile.

"Come lay in my bed while I'm getting dressed, get warm"

  
She turned away, her head down. Her eyes burning with tears.

"I can't" she said uncertainly.

Long pauses weren't rare in their conversations, some thoughts must be unsaid to matter. Him, pulling her, her, stepping away.

She turned to face him, unsure of what to do, what to say, who to be. Just like he had his masks, she had her own. Which one now? _Maybe none_... she quickly dismissed the thought.

"I think we both know what we have planned for each other".  
"You know, but don't care?"  
"You know what I care about".

"When the war is over" - she tugged at his clothes, bringing him closer - "when there is sunlight again, the spring will come for you, my love, and you will be once again... _happy_ he wanted to say. "Safe" he whispered. She kissed him then, like he was her first love, tenderly, softly, a kiss full of promises that life would not let both of them keep.

"Let's pretend nothing ever happened to us" she said. Let's pretend we never got hurt by anyone"

"No" he stopped her. Don't you ever forget your pain, it made you who you are"

"I don't want to die" she whispered suddenly. "I don't want to die like this"

He didn't say anything. He couldn't lie to her. He couldn't console her.

Ashamed of herself, she got up and wiped away her tears.

"I have to go"

"Go then"

 

 

 

A long time ago he confessed his love for her, but she never returned his feelings. He deserved it. He knew she would never give him what his heart so desperately desired. Still, her presence made him alive. Her anger and her lust. A woman, who never knew genuine love of a man, never knew the feeling of being in the arms of a lover she chose. He never knew that joy, too. Nothing would happen between them, he went to bed with this thought every night, woke up with it each morning. She didn't love him and no matter how much they wanted to explore each other, to touch each other, to share their thoughts and share a bed every night, she has made her choice.

"No" he thought, thinking of her hopelessness and her fear, _I promised her protection, I will keep my word._ Fuck the war.

 

 

  
"Sansa", he didn't even bother with knocking. She was taking a bath. She looked up, meeting his gaze, daring him to do something, anything.

  
_Please, Petyr._

  
He ignored her pleading look and sat down on the chair next to the tub, her whole body once again exposed to him completely.

"Sansa, as long as you are under my protection, will you do as I say?"  
She furrowed her brows, "What is it?"

"Maybe we could still make it out of here, out of Westeros. Go to Braavos".

"Where your ancestors came from" she added.

"True, would be curious to return to the start" he said with a smile. "We are surrounded by mountains and there are a few passages to get us to the Fingers. Baelish keep, that's where my true home is. It's right on the shore. We would make the journey by boat, and once we get there, you might just start sleeping at night without taking any remedies to help you".

She sat upright, water cascading down her beautiful breasts. _Fuck._

 

Leaving with him might give her a chance to survive, but that would mean she is to be forever bound to him.

"I don't see the point" she answered. "Can you pass me something to dry myself with?"

"Will you let me do it for you?"

 

She hesitated only for a moment, before she stood up and took his hand, as he helped her out of the tub.

He started from the top, slowly going towards the bottom, gently pressing the smooth cloth to every part of her body.

Everything in her tried to protest, but then his hand slid between her legs and she put her arms on his shoulders to steady herself.

"It's alright" he smiled, "want to get back to bed?"

  
"I will if you come with me"

"I shouldn't, Sansa... you can't continue harming yourself with other people to forget the trauma you went through"

"Will you hurt me? If I die today, will you care that I've never let a man in my bed willingly?"

"You don't know what you're asking for".

 

Sansa realised just how much mess she's created. What was her plan, her intentions, her purpose? She forgot. She drowned in him, in his gray-green eyes filled with desire and something more. She needed him to be her opponent. Why was he stepping back now? Maybe he had a new strategy? She didn't care.

Taking her hands in his he asked "Where is your weapon?"

"You have no reason to distrust me"  
"Of course I do, and you know that. That's what turns you on so much"

She never blushed anymore, but wanted to.

"What else turns me on?" She inhaled his scent, her body getting weaker the closer she stepped to him.

  
"When I'm in control and you can pretend that your whole life is just about my hands and my mouth"  
She sighed. They knew each other too well.  
"Surrender to me" she said "as I will to you".

 

He was ready before, but then something happened and he wouldn't get too close to her, let alone share her bed. Where did she went wrong? She had to know.

 

"I want to show you something" she said. He watched her walk across the room and unlock one of the chest of drawers. Some sort of fabric in her hands, flowing, a silk gown?

"It's nearly finished" she said, giving him the material.

It was a dress indeed, and he was instantly reminded of the day of Jon's coronation. She wore her house sigil on her dress proudly, the direwolf stitched perfectly across her chest. Only now it wasn't that dress.

It was another one, with his own sigil on it. A black mockingbird.

"Sansa... he looked up at her, I'm the only one of my house"  
"So am I. But now, _you_ are not, not anymore"

"I wanted you to see me wearing it, but I'd rather the whole castle sees. Let them gossip, they probably already do, I don't care. This will make the two of us. Your pin and my stitching".

"A kiss is all I ask in return" she whispered. "Do I not deserve one?"

He picked her up and laid her on the bed, she was still bare from bathing.

Quickly undressed, he joined her on the covers.

"A kiss?"  
" _Please_ , I _will_ beg for it"

He gave her one of those chaste ones that he used to give her ages ago.  
But she was determined not to lose. She will break his walls.

  
"Try again"  
He placed another one beneath her jaw.  
"Better" she moaned.

He finally crushed his body to hers.

"Open your mouth" she was more than eager to follow his commands, he claimed her heart as his a long time ago, now he would claim her body.

She granted him full access to every part of her, she was already his, but he didn't need to know.

"Want to know what it feels like to finally have someone you desired for years?" His hands were everywhere, strong, but not cruel, her body craving his every touch, bending, turning, as she kept moaning, biting her lips, letting him into her mind, her heart"

"We are going to go all the way, aren't we?"  
"I was just waiting for you to let your guard down"

He let out a groan when she touched his cock, while kissing his neck. Gentle strokes drove him mad, she knew. He felt magnificent in her hand, she refused to even think of him inside her. 

"Does it feel good, Petyr?"

 

He pressed her down on her stomach, her hair wrapped around his fist. He tugged and she instinctively arched her back, providing him with the view that made his heart skip a few beats.

He pushed her legs wider apart.

She felt herself tense.

"Are you going to fuck me from behind, like a whore?"

"The position doesn't matter, it's everything else that really matters"

 

He found her entrance wet and dripping, as always. Consistency with which her body cooperated with him probably annoyed her.

"What do you want? You know enough to choose"

She prepared for the pain to come, but it was fine, it was him.

 

"You know what I want" she groaned, melting in his hands, trying to press herself to his cock to get some friction.

He entered her easily, without any warning, and she felt nothing but fullness, her mouth opening quietly in shock. Something inside her, all along, needed to be filled. And now she felt complete. He turned her head towards his so their eyes would meet. Gliding in and out of her he watched her expression turn from concern to ecstasy to desire. She herself was encouraging him to go deeper, as he slowly moved inside her, trying not to cause her any pain.

He switched their position so that they were now sitting upright, facing each other, her arms around his neck, her lips never leaving his. With each move she moaned, unsure of how to act.

He put his hands around her throat and she closed her eyes, head falling back.

"Show me how you'd fuck me if you hated me as I hate you" she managed to say.

"If that's your wish"

 

He lifted her up from the bed and threw her on the cold hard floor, and got on top. Her eyes widened in shock, as she felt her wetness now covering her inner thighs. He reentered her carelessly, every time it felt like he was stretching her more, thrusting deeper.

He pushed her legs apart roughly and instead of slowly going in and out of her, he slammed his cock into her, his fingers pressing perfectly hard into her hips. She cried out, from pain and pleasure. She would have never, never thought that the two could go so well together with the right man.

"Watch" he ordered, putting one of his hands behind her head to lift it from the floor.

"Watch me fuck you, Sansa"  
Her mouth fell open at the sight of it, him, disappearing inside her, his shaft glistening and the head of his cock purple with arousal.

"This still means nothing" she was out of breath by now.

"It means you wanted something I could provide" he pinched one of her nipples, hard, making her whimper.

"That's what I do"

"But you're not a charity" she reminded him.

"No" he warned.

"What do I have to do in return?"

"Share my bed"

 

His fingers were more skilled than even her own. She was sure, after tonight she would either go with her plan or abandon it forever.

"And if I won't?"

He covered her mouth once again, still buried deep inside her. They both tasted her tears.

She suddenly felt feverish, saying everything she shouldn't.

"I wish it could have been you. I wanted it to be you even before I flowered, you know? I wasn't even sure what I felt, but when you would look at me... you weren't a knight, you were _too old_   - she gasped as she met his gray-green eyes, filled with too much emotion. He kissed her mouth, tilted his head to have better access, Sansa found herself just inviting him, whatever he wanted to do to her. It was better than love, the way he moved inside her. She wanted more of him, she wanted all of him, she wanted to be crushed against him in any position, spread her legs, kiss him hard, make him feel good.

"The older I got the more often I imagined it. Us. I tried pretending it was you when he... when he did those things to me, but you would never..."

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and placed a brief kiss on her lips, silencing her.

"No one, _no one_ is going to hurt you anymore, not even me"

He continued his movements, barely getting inside, then pulling away.

With his hands and his mouth in all the right places it didn't take long for her to find her release. What she did under the covers at night couldn't possibly come close to this level of euphoria. Her eyes rolled back, his name silently escaping her lips before she cried out in pleasure, not caring how loud. It turned him on. She didn't care at all who would hear, she didn't care that she stitched his sigil and not her own on the fabric of her dress for all to see. She was his and wanted them to know.

"Again" he whispered in her ear.

Fast and deep, she felt her body just giving up on putting up any resistance. She cupped his face between her hands.  
"I want you so much, every day, its maddening. What have you done to me?"

He lifted her and placed her on the edge of his desk, she buried her face in his shoulder, meeting his thrusts, one by one, until she couldn't take it anymore, again.

Sobbing, she looked up, as if in prayer, asking for mercy.

Then she felt him slowing down, his cock hotter inside of her.

She quickly left the table on shaking legs, just in time to cover Petyr's cock with her mouth.  
No need to spit or mix it with her own saliva, she gladly drank him, robbing him of every last drop. She swallowed loudly, making sure he heard, and then licked him clean.

"Sansa..." He managed to say, voice trembling, eyes wide and chest heaving.

Petyr Baelish, Lord Protector of the Vale, cunning and ruthless, so delicious and sweet on her tongue.

_You have no idea how you make me feel._


	8. Chapter 8

 

She rode him, sweat and their fluids covering the sheets, their bodies. She was getting better at it, so much better that soon he started to join her in her groaning. First through his gritted teeth, then out loud.

_She_ was the one to bring out such sounds of pleasure from him.

_Can't stay silent anymore, Petyr?_

Sansa liked to feel dirty, _filthy_ , she would lick his neck, his scar, his cock. She was never dry around him, his very presence aroused her, no matter what he was doing, how far he was standing.

Every time he'd come she would just let his seed flow down her legs and concentrated on his other features - she would suck on his fingers, one by one, just a demonstration. She would play with him, kiss him, tease him, until he was ready to go again.

 

She was gliding her tongue all the way from his cock to his jaw, making him shiver. There are more than a few things to do with a man apart from letting him penetrate you, she learned. A woman can start a war or a rebellion or turn the whole cities to ashes, if she's wise enough in her skill.

When he would drink her, he always made sure to get as much of her as he could, licking his lips afterwards, and instead of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he would cover her own, giving her a taste.

They had a temporary agreement by now, which meant nothing. Power, in any form, is desire. To rule, to take away, to give orders. He thought he knew everything about power, but he was wrong. Once he's on the Iron Throne, the world won't bend to keep him there. Just like he had her whenever any of them wanted, she will never get to keep him, he will never own her.  
  
That first time they fucked, she said too much. She contemplated putting a pillow over his face, stop his breathing. He'd struggle for air, his arms pushing away, his cock still hard inside her, and she'd feel the last waves of his pleasure and his last breaths simultaneously. All struggle leaving his body, his ambitions destroyed and buried deep down under and in her body.

  
But if he overpowered her, which she knew he would, her little game would not end well.

 

  
"Come outside with me" she said one morning. They were both wrapped in heavy cloaks and furs, cold air trying to find a way in, her face perfectly white, like the snow they were walking on. As soon as the castle was no longer in sight, she dropped the furs on the ground, then her cloak, then her gown. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words never came. 

She laid down, but not on the fabrics. Her body touched the cold ground and she arched her back. She smiled and laughed at his confusion. He wasn't a northerner, _she_ was. 

_The snow is our deathbed, out sanctuary, our hiding place._

  
Petyr left his own clothes lie on the ground, fresh layer of snow already covering it.

He expected her skin to be cold, but she was warm and she was waiting. The winter seemed to have no hold on her.  
She smiled as he got on top of her, his fingers finding her even wetter than usual. He looked at them and saw blood.

So it wasn't just a question she asked him long ago.

He put himself inside her, and the contrast of the outside world and his own amazed him, bewildered him. One of them would be frozen and gone by now, but the two of them belayed each other. Whomever goes down, the other does too. You have to trust your partner, but they didn't. Their partnership was based on something different.

She looked at him, silent as the scenery around her, while he grunted and rambled. Maybe the cold will take him once he's finished.

"Are you warm, Petyr?" she smiled deviously.

She dragged her hands down her stomach and found blood just dripping on her fingertips. She asked him to look at her like they were strangers, and she drew a long bloody line across his throat with her finger.

"I like the sight of you" she said, her eyes rolling back behind her eyelids.

She moaned with him until they were both finished and utterly spent.

 

Something was happening to her. Something _wrong._

 

She pushed him away and crawled back to where her clothes would have been, now barely visible pile of fabric.

  
"Let me sleep now" she said.  
"You will not wake up"  
"Have you asked me if I want to?"

He needed to get them both inside while it wasn't too late.

"You're in no position to have an opinion" she tried to struck him, but missed.  
He dressed them both in a hurry and started to carry her back to safety.

 

He glanced behind him - a red flower was blooming in the midst of winter.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This still isn't finished, but I'm beginning to feel like a fraud. I read some other fics you fellow writers are creating and I want to just delete the whole story, it's not perfect, my second language is deficient and I'm ashamed that I can't just say "I write it for my own enjoyment!" I seek approval and I shouldn't. But thank you to those who found something of value in this work.

She lost count of how many times she asked herself if she loved him. This exact feeling, it was foreign to her as a woman grown, fucking out of wedlock. Love was gentle and kind, love was trust and respect. Choking on his cock didn't seem like a love act.

But then, maybe she was wrong. How many months had passed since her arrival at the Vale? She kept finding excuses. She kept telling herself the time hasn't come yet. Deep down she even admitted that no matter what, she will never let any other man do to her things Petyr did. How could she look at her hands and think about them putting an end to the greatest pleasure she'll ever know?

  
Some days she felt... tenderness for him, as well as desire, and she imagined them laughing together, holding each other, sitting by the fire, just talking. Those days were rare and she wouldn't see him no matter how he begged. She felt unwell today - that was her excuse, every time.

The ravens never brought news from the north anymore. Winterfell, she figured, was gone, taking those who chose to stay inside with it.

"I'm afraid I have bad news, my lady" he said to her one day.  
"The passages are gone now, the snow too deep for horses to get through. You'll be safe here in the Eyrie, I assure you, as long as you stay inside. We have enough provision and remedies for years to come".  
"I understand, Lord Baelish" she answered coldly. 

"Sansa" he took her hand in his as they were walking away from the dining hall.

"I know you feel trapped - he sighed - but better this than dead"

Now it was over, it was done. She wanted to sob or vomit but remained calm, her posture impeccable.  
Now the only Queen I can be is a Queen of nothing.

"So what do we do now?" She asked.  
His mouth was on hers and she felt that again - gentleness. She walked with him to his chambers, and waited for him to close and lock the door behind them.

Jon was dead. She just knew it. Everyone was dead except for her and Petyr. The servants avoided both of them, no guests were arriving anymore.

He went up to her, she was sitting on his bed, looking up at him, blue eyes glistening in the dark.

"Show me how you'd fuck me if you loved me"

"I do it every time" he answered.

"Even when I ask you to fuck me like you hate me just as I hate you?"

"Even then"

  
"I don't understand" she looked down on her hands.  
"You think people who love each other would never act like we do? Is that it? You think a married woman is timid and obedient when bedded, and since you can't be that woman you think of yourself as a whore?"

"Show me" she said, shaking with fear.  
"Prove me this isn't another lie. Make me fall in love with you"

"I can't force you to love me if you don't, Sansa. It will bring too much pain to the both of us"  


She desperately wanted to be loved, to be loved by him.

"Just once, please Petyr"

 

So he closed his eyes for a few moments, as if trying to find the strength for what he was about to do.

"Come here, my love" he said.  
She rose to her feet and found his eyes full of fondness and affection. He smiled at her, genuinely, and put his arms around her, holding her tight. He whispered in her ear "You are everything to me, Sansa". She put her hands on his shoulders, searching his gaze again. Trying to find some trace of malice, but there wasn't any. Desire for her was still there, but not dark and desperate as usual.

"May I?" he asked.  
"Yes" her voice trembled.

He slowly uncovered her shoulder and his lips were on her, and she felt so innocent, so demure. He unlaced her dress and made it slide down her figure.

"You are perfection. You're everything I want". He led her to the bed, gently placing her on it.  
She suddenly felt like covering herself.

"If I say stop, will you?"  
"At any point, I swear to you"

She waited until he undressed and joined her.

"Now what?" She asked in fear.

"Now I show you how I feel about you"

She felt his lips on hers, a soft chaste kiss, and then another one, deeper, but not demanding. She placed one of her arms behind his neck to keep him from stopping, and he gave her all the control. She kissed him however she liked, and couldn't stop even when she felt his hands gently gliding across her figure, exploring every curve of her body. He reached her wetness and she sighed into his mouth.

"Do you like what I'm doing?" He said softly, while his fingers circled the sensitive area.  
"I do, please go on" she whispered between kisses.

"Are you ready?"

_Now or never._

She looked into his eyes once again, and nodded.

He entered her so slowly she almost wanted him to just abandon the whole idea.

But then he was all inside her, keeping the rhythm slow and tantalizing. He kissed her neck, her collarbones, and she tightened her grip on him, fingers in his hair, as he teased her.

"We can still do all the things we did, and be like this"

  
She loved him. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him over and over how much she loved him, but she couldn't.

"Petyr..." she said weakly.  
He stopped, afraid he'd hurt her.

 

She looked at him, tears wetting her bright lips.


	10. Chapter 10

  
He withdrew his hands from hers.

"I'm sorry" he said "I never should have..."  
He couldn't move away, she was still laying there, unmoving and quiet. What would happen next? He couldn't guess, what if that was the end of it? What if he did something so wrong, that it ruined everything between them?

She finally spoke and her voice sounded ethereal.  
"I didn't say yes" she exhaled slowly "I didn't agree to go to the Fingers with you when there was still a chance".

Her hands, moments ago clutching the sheets as she tried to steady herself, were now limp, her palms facing up, arms lean and graceful spread out.

"I thought - she sighed deeply - I hoped to disappear once we reached Braavos. Just get lost in the crowd. As if that would bring me any good" she laughed as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"You _are_ Lord Protector of the Vale, but I realized, you are _my_ Lord Protector as well"

Petyr eyed her laying form, perplexed and captivated. Where was she going with all this?

He was still close enough to her so she could take his hand. But she wouldn't.

"You love me, I believe it, but is your love enough? If I stand between you and your goal, will you forget about your love for the sake of power? That picture in your head, it can't become a reality anymore with the war, the winter, the isolation - she was struggling for air - what is the next step for you, Lord Baelish? Maybe _outside_? How long till you freeze to death? Or maybe you want to run some brothels? I'm sorry, but there are no whores and customers here, unless me and you count.

"Stop it, Sansa" he said warningly, and although he spoke strictly, his eyes gave away a trace of remorse.

"Why write letters anymore? To whom? To your nonexistent family or to mine? Ask for help? And who will come to save us, Petyr? We don't matter anymore!" she cried out.

"You matter to me. I've said it before and I keep saying it and I'll say it to you again! I want everything. Didn't I just say to you, Sansa, that you are everything to me? You are a bright young woman, you figured it all out! So what? You think I weep in my rooms at night, dreaming about some throne and court life? _Fuck_ this whole ordeal and set of circumstances. And yes, it has ruined my plans, but when I asked you to leave for the Fingers with me and you refused the idea, I chose to stay here with you. I could've gone on my own, but I told you, one part is worth nothing without the other! Power is nothing without you by my side. I'm a betting man, Sansa, a dangerous, calculating, cunning murderer. I've killed and betrayed and coerced others to do it for me. Thousands are dead because I played my game well. I never cared. If we would've made it to Essos, I would've continued my scheming and planning and it all would eventually come down to a choice between you and Westeros. You know what kind of a man I am, Sansa, and still you let me bed you! I was chasing power and revenge long before I met you, and now power is not within my reach and my revenge is long ago accomplished". 

He paused.

"I want everything. I want you".

"You disgust me" she said. This one phrase from her hit him harder than Brandon's sword on that day. He felt his ribs just collapsing on themselves.

"Just like I disgust myself" she added.

He didn't know what to do.

"I enjoyed killing Ramsay so much, that after a while, I started wanting to do it again. To take revenge. I thought I was strong enough... she placed her arm on her forehead. "When they all called out Jon's name and not mine, and I met your gaze, I thought,  _now I understand what it feels like._  I think we were the only two people that day that didn't cheer, I just remember getting lost in your eyes, they were promising me the North and more and I realised - I _deserve_ all of it".

This is just like how she imagined. Them, just talking. 

"But then it all started and I think I despised you more than I should have, I should've loathed myself just as much. I've done terrible things too. I've said and thought and planned horrible, heartless things. So if you disgust me, why am I in your bed? Maybe I disgust myself for being with someone like you? Well that's just hypocrisy".

It was so quiet he thought his ears would burst.

"Fuck me again" she demanded all of a sudden.  
"Sansa..."  
"So you're not in love with me anymore?"

He tried to stay calm, but she made him feel uneasy.

He looked away and closed his eyes, his brows furrowed. She was just toying with him all this time, hating herself for letting him go near her. And he took it all as signs of affection, like a fool, as she played him.

 

Suddenly, he heard glass breaking, two wine glasses shattered on the floor.

"Fuck this love of yours, Littlefinger" she was slowly coming up to him until they were face to face.

"Fuck your bad nature and your methods. If we are doing this, I want you as you are, I want you to want me as I am".

"If we're doing what?"

"If we're admitting our feelings to each other. I only want _you_ and I want to share your bed _every. single. night,_ because I can never get enough of what you do to me".

  
"I asked you to fuck me again" 

His mouth was on hers in an instant.

"You fucking tease... say it, and I will" he groaned. _Unbelievable_. 

"No" she smirked.

"Say you love me, Sansa" she sent him into a frenzy. The need for her touch was unbearable.

"So you want me to _lie to you_?"

"You _do_ love me" he moaned, as his hands started to descend down her body.

She trembled in his arms.

"What do you mean by love?" she managed to say before ecstasy took over.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and let me know in the comments if you're interested where this is going!


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